


you're my big distraction

by crooked



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 21:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crooked/pseuds/crooked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is very focused, always. Except when he's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're my big distraction

**Author's Note:**

> based on [nightvaleprivatelibrary](http://nightvaleprivatelibrary.tumblr.com/post/59539079910/imagine-enjolras-looking-at-grantaire-while-hes)'s GREAT headcanon!

"I don't want to get into how fucking polarizing the HRC is," Enjolras says, rolling his eyes and letting out a little scoff. "But whether we like it or not, the fact of the matter is—" 

He trails off, his eyes having made the grave mistake he'd been hoping they wouldn't: finding Grantaire.

It's not that he can't look at Grantaire. It's that he can't look at Grantaire _after last night_. Spread out on Enjolras' bed, naked and writhing, arching his back as Enjolras kissed and touched him everywhere, and _oh god_ the way Enjolras' name sounded spilling from his lips. Enjolras can feel the heat rising to his cheeks and there is nothing he can do to stop it.

But he manages to look away (though not before Grantaire catches on and the right side of his mouth curves into a little smirk) and Enjolras sees Courfeyrac and Combeferre both staring at him with wildly different expressions. Combeferre has a questioning frown on his face, a sort of _what's going on, enjolras, are  you alright?_ look. Courfeyrac has his eyebrows raised and he's clearly thinking _who did you fuck last night, e?_ , which is a look Enjolras wants to avoid just as much. He swears Courf has some kind of sex radar.

"Uh, sorry," Enjolras says, glancing down at the note cards in his hands. He always takes the time to organize talking points and important topics on note cards, even if he does often diverge and starts speaking extemporaneously. "Right. The fact of the matter is that we need those transphobic, bigoted assholes _for now_ because the HRC is arguably the biggest, most influential voice we have in Washington at the moment. And I hesitate even saying 'we' in reference to them because _fuck the HRC_ , but..."

He was fine, rolling along smoothly, until someone cleared his throat. Enjolras doesn't have to look to know it was Grantaire. But he looks at him anyway. He specifically looks at the scarf wound around Grantaire's neck, which isn't out of place on a night like this when the air holds the first telltale chill of autumn in it. But it's the faintly purplish-red hickey that the scarf is failing to completely cover that catches Enjolras' eye. He flashes back to last night and giving him that hickey, his lips on the curve of Grantaire's neck and Grantaire's hands tangled in his hair and, again, Grantaire's moans. And, damn him, R is smiling. It's a knowing smile and Enjolras has to fight so hard not to return it. He loses that fight, in the end, ducking his head to hide his grin and the fact that he's turning redder by the second.

Enjolras take another pause, draws in a deep breath, and carries on. He manages to get through all his talking points, though he goes off-topic far less than usual for those paying attention, and he only looks at R twice throughout the course of it all. (And stammers and blushes minimally those two times.) Everyone falls into their usual habits after the meeting officially ends, some pairing off and heading home and others gathering near the bar to linger for a drink or two. Grantaire and Enjolras are among the former group.

Because Enjolras _needs_ to get Grantaire back to his place - R's place, that is, because it's the closest. Grantaire doesn't speak, and neither does Enjolras, as they walk the several blocks over to his building, but the way Enjolras made a beeline for him after concluding the meeting and not-so-inconspicuously grabbed his wrist and hauled him out of there put a smile on R's face that doesn't fade all the way to his doorstep.

Barely waiting for Grantaire to pull out his keys and let them into his apartment, Enjolras practically shoves him inside and kicks the door shut behind him. He sounds lout a little growl as he pulls R against his body by the green scarf around his neck, his back falling against the door as their lips clash in a rough kiss.

"You are an _ass_ hole, R," Enjolras murmurs, in between kisses and with a faint smirk on his lips.

Grantaire presses closer to Enjolras' body, their hips aligned and his hands grabbing handfuls of the sides of his red jumper. "I was an innocent bystander all night," he says. Enjolras scoffs at that and shoves R off him.

"You were about as innocent as I was focused," he says, his footsteps leading straight to Grantaire's bedroom. Grantaire catches him by the hips, though, and they both go tumbling down to the sofa. Enjolras lands on his back and Grantaire settles in the valley of his parted thighs.

"And whose fault is that, hm?" Grantaire asks, his lips zeroing in on roughly the same area that Enjolras had bruised with rough, biting kisses on Grantaire's own neck.

Enjolras squirms and moans, circling his arms around Grantaire's shoulders. "This isn't how this was supposed to go, you know. I was going to punish you for being so disorderly and distracting."

Grantaire lifts his head and grins at Enjolras. "Well, in that case..." He pulls up and gets off Enjolras, leaving him gaping after him as he walks to his bedroom without looking back. "You coming?" he calls out, now out of view.

Enjolras nearly trips over his own feet in a rush to join Grantaire, barely managing to avoid making the crude joke he knows was expected. He doesn't have time for it, though, because it seems to take less than the blink of an eye for clothes to come off, for bodies to tangle together on the still-unmade sheets of R's bed. And Enjolras' mouth is far too busy with other pursuits to worry about witty comebacks.

(But to answer Grantaire's question: _yes_.)


End file.
